Spence Green

Andy sent along some additional pictures from Oman. These differ from the rest in that I appear in them. So far I have been loathe to pose before this rock or that animal; such contrivances make me feel stupid and maybe a little Japanese. I haven’t traveled much over the past month, electing instead to prepare for the Africa trip this summer, dive, and practice Arabic. The latter has improved and I can now speak without thinking. Yesterday, for example, Anita (my teacher) asked if I could drive well and I responded, “Yes, much better than all of the Emiratis.” The half-inch mortar board walls at the school failed to confine that opinion and we subsequently heard laughter in the adjacent room. Later, I saw several Emiratis walk out.

A coworker also taught me some naughty words last week. Now if you are learning a language, you must know the patois early on. Otherwise, you could commit unintended indiscretions. For example, in Arabic, “hamam” means bathroom and “hamaar” means [large mule-thing]. Suppose I’m at the restaurant:
“That ravioli looks delightful. Does it come with a salad?”
“Of course. Which dressing?”
“The vinaigrette. By the way, do you have a [large mule-thing]?”
“Sir!”

Arabs are usually congenial and would understand the miscommunication. But in a place like France, this behavior would likely inspire a riot.

In other news, an Arab friend called me last weekend and said, “Let’s go play football. Do you have shoes, etc?” Sure, I said. That is, I had gear by the next afternoon. I haven’t played since age 6, but I figured that I could at least kick the ball and play defense. We went to a small turf field (quarter-size, I think) and we played pick-up with some guys from the best football club in the country. I managed the situation for about ten minutes and then the ball came right toward me. I didn’t think; I grabbed it. Never have I seen such laughter in my life. A fat man in the corner had a bout of tachycardia. For the rest of the evening they wouldn’t let me near the ball. Each time I approached it, one of them ran up screaming, “Hello, Captain” and took it from me. The next evening, my friend had to apologize for not bringing “the professional.”